


The Light Gets Into Your Heart

by st_aurafina



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, X-Men Movieverse Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Three Mile Island, Emma and Scott don't let their defences down easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light Gets Into Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after the Wolverine movie, at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Title from Simple Minds. Thank you to lonelywalker and lilacsigil for the beta.

"So what are they doing now?" Scott flopped onto his back and threw an arm across his face: the midday sun was bright enough that dazzling glare filtered through the gauze padding under his occlusive lenses. "I can hear shouting in the sun room."

"Professor Xavier is pouring the tea and Mr Lehnsherr is shouting. He keeps unrolling those blueprints and pointing at something. It's all very technical and dull." Emma sat beside him, legs neatly folded under her skirt. She filed her nails while she furnished Scott with visual details. Scott didn't mind the rasping noise – he knew what it meant for Emma to have control of her appearance at last. "The Professor knows we're watching him. He just gave Mr Lehnsherr a look of great significance, much good it will do him."

"They're definitely a couple." Scott spoke with as much worldly conviction as he could muster since he'd never known anyone who was gay.

"Without a doubt." That soft puff of air was Emma blowing dust from another perfectly shaped nail. She sounded like she knew what she was talking about, but Scott knew that she was as good at bluffing as he was.

Scott stretched his arms out above his head. The grass beneath his fingertips was lush and slightly damp. He could easily imagine the particular green it must be: the expensive, brilliant green of a well manicured lawn. They'd only been here a week, and even with the routine of classes, so much freedom still seemed like a strange luxury.

Voices drifted down the gently sloping lawn: Ororo and Jean arguing about _The Breakfast Club_ and which character would have what power. Scott's belly flip-flopped.

By his side, Emma made a rude snorting sound. "I really don't want to intrude on your thoughts, but you do make it tricky, swooning every time Jean walks around the corner." She paused for a moment. "Actually, I could probably tell even if I weren't a telepath."

Scott blushed and rolled over onto his stomach. "Don't be a bitch, Emma."

"Poor baby," Emma's hand rested briefly in his hair. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Today her sweater is pale blue. Cashmere, probably, she has really nice clothes." Jealousy crept into her voice for a moment. "The colour is good for her complexion, I'll give her that. She has lovely skin; pale, the kind that freckles. Hair in a ponytail. She's just so... _perky_..."

Emma stopped speaking as the girls drew closer and Scott's stomach squirmed with embarrassment – he knew that awkward kind of silence well, having been the freak at his last school. He pulled himself upright, wracking his brains for casual conversation topics. "Um, so, what's the weather like out there? I can't see, but it seems nice." He rolled his eyes behind his glasses as the words spilled out. At the point where his knee pressed against her, he could feel Emma quake with silent laughter. He didn't blame her. The weather? Pretty feeble, Summers.

Ororo took pity on him. "It's lovely today, Scott. I haven't been tempted to meddle at all. The Professor says that he is testing another lens – perhaps you will see for yourself soon? "

Scott shrugged, uncertain. The last time he had gingerly removed his protective bandages, the only thing he had seen was the experimental lens fracturing under his optic blasts. He didn't hold out a lot of hope, but for Ororo's sake he smiled. "That would be kind of cool." After all, it wasn't too bad here. If he had to be blind, he might as well be blind in comfort.

Jean didn't say anything, but Scott could feel her silently examining the two of them. He concentrated hard on not wriggling, and ignored the itch on the side of his face. With a soft rustle, cool fingers brushed his face and he inhaled in surprise. Jean smelled like shampoo and artificial strawberries, and she was so close that Scott could no longer breathe.

"You had a bug walking up there." Jean's face was next to his. Scott's mouth was dry and his mind raced. There must be something to say that didn't make him sound like an idiot. The Professor's telepathic voice broke the moment - it was time for afternoon class. Jean and Ororo hurried back to the house while Scott sat paralysed on the grass.

Emma's voice was a low whisper as she stood and brushed the grass from her skirt. "Berry lip gloss, in case you couldn't tell. It's meant to be a natural sheen, not an oil slick. She needs to learn less is more."

_'She' is the cat's mother. 'She' is also a telepath, by the way._ Jean's mental voice was crisp and practiced; Scott could almost hear Emma pressing her lips together in a frown.

Scott groaned and fell forward, pressing his hot face to the cool grass. "Well, that went well."

***  
The sound of breaking glass was like a gunshot. Scott woke, gasping for breath, but the house was silent. He curled his knees up and tried to match Jason's gentle, rhythmic breathing, but the more he tried the more his heart pounded in panic. Finally, he slid quietly out of his bed and shoved his feet down into his sneakers. He'd do a quick patrol, if only to settle his mind, and then he'd be able to sleep. He had one hand on the door when he heard faraway sobbing, and then he was running. Adrenaline laid out a perfect floor plan in his mind; despite the sleeping mask, he didn't stumble once, not all the way to the girl's dormitory. There, the door was open and someone was crying; loud sobs and harsh gasps.

"Emma?" Scott ventured over the threshold, arms outstretched before him. The girls' dorm was unknown territory. "Em, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Emma's voice came from ground level, calm and authoritative over the top of the sobbing. Scott relaxed; at least she wasn't the one who was crying.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you?" Scott inched his feet forward, but stopped when he felt glass crunch under his shoes.

"Jean had a nightmare, she broke a vase." Emma spoke softly. "She's okay, just kind of freaked out. Ororo's gone to get the Professor."

"No, no! This hasn't happened for so long." Jean's voice was small and thin, interrupted by hiccupping sobs. "I don't want him to know – I thought this was all over. He'll be disappointed."

"Shh, it's okay." Emma made soothing noises as her hands rubbed Jean's back. "We all have nightmares sometimes. It wasn't real. Nobody will be angry." Her words were underscored with determination. "I won't let them be angry."

Scott felt his way into the dormitory until he found the two of them huddled between two beds, and wrapped his arms around them both."It's okay. It's just a vase. Say I broke it. I don't mind if I get in trouble." He didn't think that the Professor would mind about a broken vase, but if so, Scott had taken worse punishment than one old man could dish out.

Emma leaned close to him, whispered in his ear."It flew through the air, Scott. Really fast. It smashed against the door. The whole room was shaking, our beds floated. If she can do all that in her sleep, I think the Professor might be a bit concerned."

Jean cried more, muffled broken sobs, and Scott's heart wrenched, picturing her with her face buried against Emma's shoulder. How could he make this okay? "Emma, there's a closet at the end of the hall, it's probably got a broom. Sweep the pieces up."

"What?" He could feel Emma's cool gaze. Comforting someone in distress was one thing, but sweeping?

"Quickly, before the Professor gets here! I'd do it, Emma, but I'll miss pieces." Scott helped Jean up. "Wipe your eyes and get into bed, pretend nothing happened. The Professor has a million vases, he'll never miss one. Just pretend it was a regular dream. He doesn't have to know."

Jean sniffed and nodded, then slipped out of his arms. Scott heard blankets being drawn back and a trumpet of nose-blowing. Emma whisked around the room with the broom until all the pieces were swept under the rug. She shoved the broom towards Scott and leapt for her own bed. Scott stowed the broom behind the door and scrambled back into the hall, just as footsteps sounded on the stairs. By the time he could hear the Professor's voice, low and worried, answered by Mr Lehnsherr's terse reassurances, Scott stood nervously by the dormitory door.

"Is everyone all right?" Scott felt the Professor's robe brush against his arm as he, then Ororo, rushed into the room.

Mr Lehnsherr leaned on the opposite side of the door; Scott could hear his fingers tapping nervously against the wood. He concentrated his attention on the voices coming from the dormitory.

Inside, Jean's voice was surprisingly even. "I'm fine, Professor. I'm sorry, I just had a nightmare and it surprised Emma."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to over-react." Emma spoke softly. Scott could almost see her cringing nervously, frightened and pale, the image of an abused child. "I heard a scream, I thought something terrible was happening."

_Careful, Em. Don't overdo it. You're not Little Orphan Annie_, Scott tried to beam his thoughts in her direction. Emma was a consummate liar, but sometimes she got a little carried away with her own drama. Emma flashed back an image of Daddy Warbucks' shiny head and Scott nearly lost it, remembering Emma's vivid description of the Professor on their first day.

"I see. Is that correct, Ororo?" The Professor sounded as though he were smiling, and Scott relaxed just a little. He took a deep breath and willed Ororo to play along.

"Yes," Ororo said slowly, "That's what happened." Her voice became very serious and responsible. "I thought it was best that I wake you up, Professor, just in case. I should have checked with Jean first, I'm sorry."

"Then, I suppose," said Mr Lehnsherr, "Things are under control." Of all the people at the school, Mr Lehnsherr was the one that Scott found hardest to picture – his voice seemed filled with laughter and anger at the same time.

"Very well, " said the Professor. "Everyone back to your beds, and I shall talk with you in the morning. And, Ororo, all of you, there is no need to apologise for waking us. There is no reason too small to ask for help. Good night, all of you."

Scott's heart leapt – they'd gotten away with it! He didn't feel bad about deceiving the Professor – it was only a vase, after all, and Jean had been so upset. He wrapped his arms around himself, and turned to go down the stairs.

Mr Lehnsherr caught him by the elbow as he passed. "Whatever you were up to, Mr Summers, your grin gives you away. You may wish to think about that next time." Scott narrowed his eyes behind the bandages – he was almost certain that Mr Lehnsherr was smiling this time. Scott pattered nimbly down the stairs and slid under the covers. In the opposite bed, Jason stirred and muttered in his sleep but did not wake.

***

The sun still blazed at midday but now and then, as a cloud scudded across the sky, stripes of heat and cold alternated against Scott's body.

Jean spoke lazily from where she sat beside him on the grass. "It had better not rain on this sweater, 'Ro. It will take hours to dry properly, and I want to wear it tomorrow when we visit Hank."

Emma snorted. "Please, Ororo. I don't know about this Hank, but I don't want to spend hours in a car that smells of damp sheep."

"As it's my sweater that you're wearing -," Ororo's voice was dry - "I had better move those clouds along."

Scott stifled a laugh, and stretched out his legs to catch the sunlight. They wouldn't have very many more days like this.

"He knew, you know. The Professor, I mean. You can't fool a telepath." Jean spoke carefully.

"You can if you're a capable telepath yourself." Emma's retort was instantaneous, and Scott bumped her knee with his hand, just to let her know it was okay, and this wasn't a competition.

"If he knew," said Ororo, "then why didn't he say anything?"

Jean's breath huffed as she turned over onto her stomach. The ends of her hair flicked against Scott's hand. "Because he wants us to be able to work together. Because he thinks we should be a team."

"What kind of team?" Emma asked suspiciously.

"I don't know." Jean sounded as curious as Scott felt. "Maybe he just wants people like us to band together. Maybe for protection."

"It sounds, I don't know, a bit cultish." Emma was dubious. "I've spent enough time in freaky compounds, thank you."

Scott weighed the idea up in his mind. He put his hands behind his head, felt his elbow touch Jean's, and smiled. Emma was always right to be cautious. What happened last night, though, was a good thing – all of them working together, thinking on their feet, watching each other's backs. He couldn't say yet whether this school was a good place, but maybe it was worth keeping his eyes open.


End file.
